


Dressup

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 11:53:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3326390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gandalf visits Bag End to see Bilbo and the children, who’re caught up in their own little fantasy of journeying to Erebor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dressup

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for mahmfic’s “Thorin & co are actually little kids who are pretending that they are on a quest to get back Erebor” prompt on [The Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/11476.html?thread=22835668#t22835668).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It’s a bright, sunny day: perfect pipe weather. As soon as he sees Gandalf coming up the path, he checks to make sure he has enough tobacco for two, although there’s no way of knowing exactly _what_ Gandalf puts in his pipe to make as large, colourful smoke rings as he does. Bilbo’s already thoroughly looking forward to trying to send his little puffs through Gandalf’s wide hoops, although not as much as he’s looking forward to the real reason Gandalf’s here.

Because of the perfect view of the hill from outside his door, Bilbo stays where he is, leaning against his gate, while Gandalf ambles up the path. They exchange smiles on the way. During this brief lapse of the wizard’s attention, Fíli and Kíli nearly knock him over. They go barreling right into his robes, hugging tightly to his legs, and Bilbo grins at the sight of his poor old friend trying to steady himself against the force of two pint-sized bear hugs. The two children barely come up to his waist, but they’re still a force to be reckoned with. Gandalf’s barely patted their little shoulders when their older brother’s called them back. They instantly go rushing back to Thorin’s sides, retrieving their fallen sticks to help him ward off Glóin and Óin’s attacks. 

With one eye still fixed on the mass of children, Bilbo watches Gandalf continue up the hill. By the time he’s reached Bilbo’s side, he’s panting slightly. Bilbo pulls his pipe from his mouth to offer a cheery, “Good morning.”

“It is a good morning,” Gandalf muses, smiling so beautifully as he does. Sometimes he looks all his many years from far away, with his withered figure and his long, white beard, but when he’s up close, his eyes always seem to glint with a youthful mischief. He looks no different than he did a year ago when Bilbo last saw him, and not that different than he did five years ago, when he came to drop off thirteen tiny dwarves on Bilbo’s doorstep. 

It’s a special date that he comes back for every year, and Bilbo tells him sincerely, “I’m glad you could make it.”

“I wouldn’t miss Thorin’s birthday for the world, nor the anniversary of this most happy home.” 

“We wouldn’t have it without you.” And indeed, all of them would be quite disappointed if they did. Though Bilbo works hard to make all thirteen of their birthdays special, Thorin’s is the one that signifies the time they all came together, and the other children seem to treat it like some sort of holiday, during which they all get presents, especially the benefit of Gandalf’s most magnificent fireworks.

As though reading Bilbo’s mind, Gandalf says, “I think I’ve got just the right dragon for the party.”

“They’ll love that.” Bilbo’s already picturing the light show twisted into the form of a giant, ruby beast. “But I’m afraid I might’ve spoiled a bit of the surprise. Thorin seems to have gotten wind of it, and he’s cooked up a nice little fantasy to get them ready for the big day.”

“Oh?” Gandalf glances down at the hill, where the children are now running in circles with their arms outstretched and flapping like wings, except for Bofur, who’s instead flapping the sides of his favourite hat. A warm smile twists over Gandalf’s lips, and he looks back at Bilbo to say, full of fondness, “I knew you would be just the right father for them, Bilbo Baggins.”

Bilbo chuckles, admitting, “I never thought I’d want thirteen dwarves to raise in the Shire. You can’t imagine the looks it’s brought me! But I must say... now, I couldn’t imagine living without them.” Indeed, he smiles so wide it nearly splits his face when little Ori trips in his efforts to keep up with the others, only to have Dwalin, one of the older and larger ones, rush back to pick him up and carry him along.

The only trouble with them is that they can’t stay young forever. They’re already much bigger than they were this time last year, and when he first got them, Fíli and Kíli could barley run on their own. Now some of them are even big enough to tie their own braids, and Glóin and Balin are even starting to get stubble along their chins. It was quite a shock for Bilbo to first see that, but Gandalf’s assured him it’s perfectly normal for Dwarven children to grow stout beards. 

Unfortunately, they’re also old enough to start asking questions. Thorin, who quickly became the natural leader of the pack, asks the most—why they’re so different than the other children in Hobbiton, where they came from, and why they can’t go back. Bilbo’s never wanted to lie to them, but he has, of course, softened the blow. As he explains to Gandalf, “They do wonder about Erebor. That’s why I think they’ll be so excited to see your dragon fireworks. Thorin’s worked up this whole fantasy world for them, where they’re going back to reclaim Erebor themselves.”

“Are they now?” Gandalf’s bushy eyebrows lift, but when he turns to look at them, it’s obvious that they’re off in some large, collaborative imagination. They do work exceptionally well together, which has always made Bilbo proud. But Thorin is obviously the head of it, and while Bilbo and Gandalf watch on from up the hill, Thorin finds his own patch of raised land to climb onto. Dwalin and Balin stand on either of his sides like an honour guard, and he starts announcing orders to the others, most of which is swallowed up in the wind before it can reach the audience at the Bag End gates. 

“And where are they in this quest?” Gandalf asks, while he starts fishing into the pouch at his waist, probably for his pipe. Bilbo, having made a ring during their pause, lowers his again. 

“They’ve just escaped from goblins.”

“Goblins? Oh my. In the Shire?”

“They’re also known as the Sackville-Bagginses,” Bilbo chuckles, recalling Lobelia coming up just a short while ago to try and ‘borrow’ more spoons. Fortunately, the crowd of tiny shouting dwarves drove her off before she got anymore of Bilbo’s cutlery. 

“And how did they escape?”

“Giant eagles saved them.”

It’s Gandalf’s turn to chuckle. Those eagles may well have been from a story he told on his last visit of an old friend who’s wing he healed. “So they’re past the mountains, then? They still have to go through Mirkwood, assuming they’ve had a look at some of your maps. That sounds rather dangerous.”

“Oh, I’m sure twelve will make it,” Bilbo decides.

“Only twelve?”

Bilbo nods, then points to Bombur, who seems to have laid down for a nap. Bifur wanders over to poke him while the others huddle tightly around Thorin, but once Bombur’s slipped off for his morning nap, there’s very little than can wake him.

“I see,” Gandalf laughs, then asks, “And how do they plan on defeating the dragon, hm?”

“I suppose we’ll see that at the birthday party.” He grins up, and the two of them share an amused look. As usual, it’ll surely be a night to remember. 

For a few short moments, they watch the children play, Thorin now leading them single file around the rocks and plants scattered alone the grassy hill, until Dori screams. Bilbo tenses, poised to help, but he quickly realizes that Dori’s only pointing at a spider, and Dwalin and Thorin are already rushing to his rescue. 

“Well,” Gandalf sighs, whilst curiously tucking his unused pipe back into its pouch. “This is quite the dilemma. I was rather looking forward to a spot of tea, but I’m not sure I can be torn away from such a magnificent show!”

Bilbo thinks for a moment, understanding the sentiment, before deciding, “It’s alright. It’s about time they had lunch anyway.” Knowing the game will resume afterwards, Bilbo clamps his hands around his mouth and calls, “Boys! Lunchtime!” His voice carries where the smaller ones don’t, and they all look up at him, save for Óin, who only does so when he notices the others are doing it. When Bilbo waves his hand towards the house, Óin’s the first one to go scrambling up the hill.

Glóin takes off right behind him, but he stops and grabs Óin when Thorin shouts, “Don’t do it, it’s an elf trap!”

Bilbo has to bite back his laugh, insisting loudly, “It most certainly is not!”

Nori, looking easily convinced, turns to Thorin and mumbles something too far away to hear, but Bilbo can imagine it’s probably advice that they should surrender in favour of food. Naturally, Thorin shakes his head, stubborn. He’s barely finished the movement when Kíli shouts, “But I like elves!”

“Kíli!” Thorin yells back, looking scandalized. But it’s too late, and the others have started wandering up the hill. Bofur even rouses Bombur and corrals Bifur over. Finally, and looking rather begrudging, Thorin sets off behind them. Bilbo has to open the gate and step aside for all his children to pour through, Óin and Glóin nearly tripping over each other to be first up the steps. Naturally, every last one of them looks up at Gandalf to wave as they pass, and he does his usual headcount on the way, which Bilbo’s always expected is half just to help himself keep their names straight. 

Last across the field is Thorin, who stops outside with his hands on his hips to tell Bilbo, “I intend to negotiate for the release of my people, Elf King!”

Bilbo, who doesn’t particularly mind being royalty in their fable, puts his hands on his hips and says with all authority, “You can negotiate inside, mister, because you’re all going straight to my dungeons!”

“You can’t keep us forever!”

“I may very well just keep you all until supper, now run along!”

Thorin screws up his face, but he does head inside, pausing to call along the way, “Hello, Gandalf!”

As Bilbo heads after Thorin, Gandalf follows along, chuckling, “It’s always good to be back again.”


End file.
